It could be so easy to dismiss the wave of reality TV dance shows that have infiltrated the airwaves as a mere celebration of commercial dance and music video culture. True, ballroom dance has made a big statement as well. But point being that those of us who champion concert dance and particularly contemporary concert dance of the more conceptual nature (by that I mean valuing ideas and innovation over glossy showmanship and crowd-pleasing virtuosity) still don't find a whole lot of our stuff represented on these shows. But that's not to say there isn't some damn good work happening on TV and that there isn't much to be excited about, given this surge of dance coverage in pop culture.
I'll start by admitting that I don't watch TV. At all. The exception being a weekly gathering with friends to catch So You Think You Can Dance (SYTYCD), the American Idol for movers, now in its fourth season (I missed the first two). There's about a half dozen other dance shows found on the spectrum of network and cable TV, or which I have seen none, including the top-rated Dancing with Stars, which I credit for getting my parents to start taking ballroom dance lessons. If that's not power, I don't know what is. But now I'm beginning to regret not participating more fully in this revolution. After all, there's some great work out there that has thus far been off my radar and, if ratings are to be believed, off the radar of most of my compatriots.
Last week's episode of SYTYCD (maybe the worst name of a television show in history) featured the usual formula of cute, young dancers, paired off into cute, heterosexual partners, assigned a genre of dance, then given a week to learn a short routine from some top choreographers in that field - everything from ballroom (which appears to be the kiss of Death on the show) to contemporary (never heard of it until the show premiered, but it seems to be something like Jazzy Modern dance) to hip-hop (which now, thanks to the show's brilliant marketing, is turning into a whole new genre of Lyrical Hip-Hop).
"Lyrical Hip-Hop" takes the style and technique of hip-hop fused with the type of narrative, emotional attitude of lyrical dance (which I generally hate on its own). But the combo, while often cliched and with the potential to be really cheesy is, in this case I think, effective and exciting. So here's the confession, I kinda love it.
Lyrical Hip-Hop, if we accept that as an emerging style of dance, may be defined by the use of the sharp dynamics and intricate, detailed body isolations that makes hip-hop so fun to watch but removes it from the hip-hop music that has thus far confined it's meaning and relegated it to back-up dance status. Lyrical hip-hop is an opportunity to tell different, more multi-dimensional stories through this genre of dance. And it's no longer mere background. It's center stage. Whether it can be sustained as an evening length work or only is successful in this short music-video format has yet to be seen...
But case in point, check out this video from this week's SYTYCD, Chelsea and Mark (don't know their last names, don't care) dancing to the #1 pop hit in the country: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8bcmKX2Tz8. You can call it formulaic, you can call it cliche. But I for one, thoroughly enjoy it and appreciate the shocking infusion of emotion into the heretofore stoic world of Hip Hop. Forgive me Mother Graham, for I have shamefully watched it probably half a dozen times by now.
So what does it mean when this pinkie-out modern dance snob can't get enough of his Leona Lewis-inspired Lyrical Hip-Hop?Who knows? But for now, I'm over "meaning" and eagerly anticipating next week's concert, um, episode.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
TranscenDANCE Youth Arts Explores It's Roots
The youth of TranscenDANCE have discovered a secret weapon and they're not afraid to use it. The City Heights-based performance collective of primarily high school and some college students ranging in age from 16-21 uses the arts to share the stories of its young members and their communities. In the process, it has equipped these kids with a power tool that often times feels like a weapon: their voice. And they use that voice to speak their truth, whether within the context of their evening-length performances, or during post-performance discussions where, last night at least, one member of the troupe, after making some comments she realized may be unpopular, said simply something to the degree of, "I'm sorry if I'm offending. But this is what I'm thinking, this is my truth, and I'm just going to share it".
Likewise, TranscenDANCE shares its stories and thoughts without apologizing for the difficulty of its message. And indeed, the message can be difficult. Last season, the company addressed such heavy topics as sexual abuse and violence, mixed with more humorous musings on the infiltration of technology in our lives and the affect of it on our relationships. This year, the company collaborated with the AJA Project - another City Heights-based organization that empowers refugee youth to document their stories and experiences through photography and multi-media.
The resulting show, 4 Corners, blended dance, spoken word, and film in an exploration of self and identity and the struggle to maintain both across generations when ones life experience can be so different from that of one's grandparents, or even parents. Dressed in colorful, flowing costumes that resembled traditional African dress and with a movement vocabulary that was heavily influenced by African dance, the performance felt far more steeped in the past and in non-American cultures than the hip-hop infused choreography and style of their previous show. In that sense, 4 Corners, was an attempt to embrace ones history and validate it. Yet as the performers frequently posited questions like, Who Am I?, they suggested that their past histories are just one component of how they see themselves and that they continue to discover other ideas about who they are.
TranscenDANCE doesn't shy away from heavy issues. Whether it be voiceovers of the AJA youth telling truly horrific stories about their families' journeys to the United States or dissecting racial and gender politics, these youth tell it as they see it and with an honesty that is at times frightening. One particularly poignant moment came before the end of the first half. A young girl walks backwards down stage and turns to reveal her pregnancy. 19-year old Angelica Lopez, with her big, round belly, stared at the audience as a voiceover featured youth talking about their hopes and dreams for their future. Meanwhile, Lopez, as we all did, looked down at her future. In the second half, Lopez performed a graceful solo that celebrated life - that which is and that which will be. The subject of teenage pregnancy is as about as taboo as you can get. But TranscenDANCE and the brave Lopez put it front and center, forcing us to acknowledge it. And not just acknowledge it but to embrace it, to see it as something empowering. And beautiful.
And that's the unique characteristic of TranscenDANCE, that ability to be in your face and confrontational... in the most inspiring and uplifting ways.
Likewise, TranscenDANCE shares its stories and thoughts without apologizing for the difficulty of its message. And indeed, the message can be difficult. Last season, the company addressed such heavy topics as sexual abuse and violence, mixed with more humorous musings on the infiltration of technology in our lives and the affect of it on our relationships. This year, the company collaborated with the AJA Project - another City Heights-based organization that empowers refugee youth to document their stories and experiences through photography and multi-media.
The resulting show, 4 Corners, blended dance, spoken word, and film in an exploration of self and identity and the struggle to maintain both across generations when ones life experience can be so different from that of one's grandparents, or even parents. Dressed in colorful, flowing costumes that resembled traditional African dress and with a movement vocabulary that was heavily influenced by African dance, the performance felt far more steeped in the past and in non-American cultures than the hip-hop infused choreography and style of their previous show. In that sense, 4 Corners, was an attempt to embrace ones history and validate it. Yet as the performers frequently posited questions like, Who Am I?, they suggested that their past histories are just one component of how they see themselves and that they continue to discover other ideas about who they are.
TranscenDANCE doesn't shy away from heavy issues. Whether it be voiceovers of the AJA youth telling truly horrific stories about their families' journeys to the United States or dissecting racial and gender politics, these youth tell it as they see it and with an honesty that is at times frightening. One particularly poignant moment came before the end of the first half. A young girl walks backwards down stage and turns to reveal her pregnancy. 19-year old Angelica Lopez, with her big, round belly, stared at the audience as a voiceover featured youth talking about their hopes and dreams for their future. Meanwhile, Lopez, as we all did, looked down at her future. In the second half, Lopez performed a graceful solo that celebrated life - that which is and that which will be. The subject of teenage pregnancy is as about as taboo as you can get. But TranscenDANCE and the brave Lopez put it front and center, forcing us to acknowledge it. And not just acknowledge it but to embrace it, to see it as something empowering. And beautiful.
And that's the unique characteristic of TranscenDANCE, that ability to be in your face and confrontational... in the most inspiring and uplifting ways.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Hybrid Authorship: The Trilogy
So often the artistic process is an invisible one. Months or years of thought, experimentation, and revision culminate in a single evening on which to validate or reject all the work that preceded it. So often what seems an instant success is really the result of a process that includes some serious doubt and soul-searching. Given this general inability to glimpse the creative process, it's a rare occurrence to witness a dance piece take shape and develop over time, on display for public observance, and to see it grow into its own and find its path from a simple idea into a fully-fleshed theory.
San Diego dance makers (and university professors, all of them) Joe Alter, Liam Clancy, and Eric Geiger started work on what they termed the Hybrid Authorship Project over a year ago in an attempt to explore what could result from a collaboration with not only other choreographers, but dramaturgs, neuroscientists, and a good dose of technology, too. I caught the first iteration of the process in its infancy as a solid trio conceived around Sushi's tiny 4X4 stage in the middle of Bluefoot Bar and Lounge, complete with a soundtrack of billiards and clinking beer glasses.
Several months later found me at the Sherwood Auditorium in what I might call the "awkward adolescent" phase of the project. Sure, it had grown up a lot but in the process, it seemed a bit confused. A bit directionless, too many ideas rolling around in its head, somewhat impressionable, and lacking confidence.
So what a pleasure it was to return tonight to SDSU for my third look at the project to find a thoughtful young dance with the wisdom to peel back some more layers to get to a stronger, more authentic core, the patience to stick with itself and trust that a genuine voice would emerge, and the balls to go to the chopping board and walk away from what wasn't working. It's a tough thing to do, let go. True in life and true in art. But sometimes to grow, you've got to ditch the old skin. Maybe it's not fully there yet. I'm still feeling a disconnect between the story the physical movement tells me and the words that accompany it. But now I'm interested enough to explore further.
What a unique opportunity to observe this journey and how satisfying to watch this work emerge. If there's another manifestation to come, I hope to be there.
San Diego dance makers (and university professors, all of them) Joe Alter, Liam Clancy, and Eric Geiger started work on what they termed the Hybrid Authorship Project over a year ago in an attempt to explore what could result from a collaboration with not only other choreographers, but dramaturgs, neuroscientists, and a good dose of technology, too. I caught the first iteration of the process in its infancy as a solid trio conceived around Sushi's tiny 4X4 stage in the middle of Bluefoot Bar and Lounge, complete with a soundtrack of billiards and clinking beer glasses.
Several months later found me at the Sherwood Auditorium in what I might call the "awkward adolescent" phase of the project. Sure, it had grown up a lot but in the process, it seemed a bit confused. A bit directionless, too many ideas rolling around in its head, somewhat impressionable, and lacking confidence.
So what a pleasure it was to return tonight to SDSU for my third look at the project to find a thoughtful young dance with the wisdom to peel back some more layers to get to a stronger, more authentic core, the patience to stick with itself and trust that a genuine voice would emerge, and the balls to go to the chopping board and walk away from what wasn't working. It's a tough thing to do, let go. True in life and true in art. But sometimes to grow, you've got to ditch the old skin. Maybe it's not fully there yet. I'm still feeling a disconnect between the story the physical movement tells me and the words that accompany it. But now I'm interested enough to explore further.
What a unique opportunity to observe this journey and how satisfying to watch this work emerge. If there's another manifestation to come, I hope to be there.
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